


One Red Thread

by pumpkinfolk



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, buh, i can't sleep at night because this fanfiction is sucking me dry, i know i am, in the best way, maybe it was, please just enjoy it and squeal with delight, shane train, take my tags away, that wasn't sexual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-18 10:32:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9380477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinfolk/pseuds/pumpkinfolk
Summary: "So...what you're telling me is she set us up because she spoke to God?""Technically it was his secretary, but that's not what's important here."





	1. Rule #1: Sleep Never Comes Easy

"What time does your bus leave? I mean...what time are you SUPPOSED to leave?"  
  
I shuffled through my shoulder bag, digging absently through the jungle of receipts and loose change. _I threw it in here earlier, after lunch,_ I told myself. I was seriously hoping I hadn't tossed it, especially after using what little of my paycheck I had gotten last week. I huffed as I wedged the payphone between my shoulder and my downturned ear, digging desperately past my Grandfather's letter and farm paperwork before producing a much abused but still passable bus ticket.

"Great question, Em. Uh...it looks like 12:30? Or maybe it's 12:00...it got a little crumpled in my bag," I grumbled. "Does that work for you? You won't be at work, right?"

Emily's voice brightened on the other end of the call. "I'll be there! I already have the evening off, I was worried about a delay happening." Her chipper, sparkling attitude was truly the complete opposite of my lovely pessimism...and probably the only reason I agreed to move out to be near her. Opposites attract, right? 

I guess if they didn't, I wouldn't be turning my life around, shaking it violently from the ankles for its lunch money. 

Emily and I had known each throughout middle school and well into high school, before her wealthy family had packed up and moved to what she referred to as an "idyllic coastal community". I didn't know what that really entailed, since I had spent my life's entirety in a city far from "idyllic", and definitely not centered around any sort of real community. Of course, her sunny-side attitude could only be taken with a grain of salt when her weekly letters came in, boasting of cleansing water and sweet air. 

Honestly, Em had a way of making things sound like a spa-resort scam. 

As I boarded the bus after what felt like an eternity (how many times do you need to scan a ticket?), I realized how tired my legs were from all the standing, walking, and waiting. I propped them up on the seat in front of me and dozed passively, hoping to distract myself from the mystery that Stardew Valley posed.

...........................

Rule #1 of Traveling: sleep never comes easy. No matter what mode of transportation you favor, it's always crowded, it always smells sticky, and it's always too hot or cold. I wished that the bus served alcohol in little plastic cups, like on planes. I also wish the couple behind me hadn't bickered the whole way.

I wished the bus ride away, complaining silently of this and that, of crying babies and stale air, until we pulled into the station. I suddenly wished the bus ride was longer, fear and uncertainty washing over me, until I saw Em. Her hair was hidden under a purple silk scarf, eyes hidden by movie-star-status sunglasses.  _Oh, for the love of..._

I ambled off the bus with my suitcase, into warm, softly scented air. I guess she really hadn't been lying.

"My darling! My love! My sweet, precious Shelby!" Emily cried, tossing her arms dramatically around my shoulders. "However did I miss you! Welcome, welcome, to our Olde Towne!"

"For the love of Yoba, Emily..." I snaked tensely out of her grip, immediately uncomfortable at the looks I had already received. "How could I top a performance like that?"

Emily removed her larger-than-life glasses and began chattering as she removed the knot in her headscarf. "I wanted you to know it was me! How could I properly welcome you to our little gem of a town without a proper introduction? Anyway, everyone knows ALL about you and they're all SO excited and I tried my best to prepare them for your...uh..." She pursed her lips and thoughtfully narrowed her eyes. "Personality?"

I stared at her blankly. "You mean you told everyone I'm only here to try and fix up the farm, so I can sell it?" I retorted drily. 

"Sort of. I left that part out."

...........................

The house hadn't stood the test of time.

I remembered running through the wheat fields as a little girl, pigs in tow. I remembered a fresh breakfast from the wood stove. I remembered orange trees. I suddenly felt resentful of myself and my grandfather. Who could ever fix this dump? Some of the weeds were bigger than me, paint chipping off the poor-excuse for a home. The barns had been destroyed, the fields were grown over and the trees, dead.

"Emily, are you sure that this isn't going to be a total money-pit?"

"I'm POSITIVE. If you're willing to put in a bit of work-"

"I think this is going to need more than a 'bit' of work, Em."

"I'm just saying, if you-"

"I mean, look at the inside of the shed! The wood is rotting, Yoba, this is a nightmare..."

"Shelby, it's not-"

"NO one is going to-"

Emily grabbed my face and squished my cheeks together before looking into my eyes intensely with hers. "Just TRUST me. I wouldn't have you come all the way out here for nothing."

............................


	2. Rule #2: Keep Track of Your Keys

The first week of Operation: Clean-Up This Dump was going...as you'd expect. The town was humid, sitting so close to the ocean, and I couldn't tell if that made it harder or easier to rip out the overgrowth my grandfather had so graciously left me before kicking the bucket. As I didn't venture far from the farm, except for groceries (where I was promptly swarmed by townsfolk) and an evening at the bar (where I was swarmed by drunk townsfolk), my venture left me mostly alone. I preferred it that way, since I only planned on being out of work for 6 months, or sooner if I could sell this bog of a farm. 

That's when Emily began sending cryptic letters.

The bullshit began in the middle of Spring. I left my sleeping bag early enough in the morning to start work before the heat set in, and checked the mailbox, assuming it would be, once again, empty. To my surprise, I found a letter enclosed in a lilac-colored envelope, and bunny sticker used to seal it shut: Emily's handiwork. I raised an eyebrow and began reading the contents:

 

_Presents are nice_

_Love is better_

_My home on the 23rd_

_No matter the weather_

 

 

My phone vibrated.

"Uh...hello?" I rubbed the bridge of my nose with my free hand. I already knew it was Emily, with her freakishly frightening perception. I could practically hear her vibrating on the other line, pleased with her little riddle.

"Shelby! Did you get my letter yet? What a silly question...of course you did. You read it right?" Her voice had a tinge of knowing something that I didn't, a slight arrogance. 

"Y'know, Em, it's not much of a mystery if you call me right after I open it. You're the worst secret-keeper, so I know if I stay on the line long enough, you'll tell me what the hell it is you want."

"I'm a WONDERFUL secret-keeper, but an even better secret-starter. Listen, it's much more fun sending you a letter...I feel like the Phantom of The Opera, and you're my Christine Daae..."

"Emily, I'm gonna stop you right there."

............................

That evening, I spent my time in the crowded saloon. My hands were sore and calloused from cleaning and repairing the house and all I could truly think of was having a drink and finishing the armful of paperwork the land had left me with. It seemed like each night I went out, I heard teasing comments about "not looking like the farmer-type" or asking "when I was going back to finish my liberal arts degree".

Jokes on them, my liberal arts degree landed me at Joja Corp, answering phones for their realty branch. This is just another job, I guess.

I sat in a torn-up, pizza parlour-style booth, sipping on whatever watery beer Emily had slid to me with a wink, comfy in my leggings and hoodie. I hadn't done a single bit of farming, much to the mayor's dismay. When the old man found out about my plan, the light fell quickly out of his eyes.

A girl's gotta work, I suppose.

Here's where the bullshit pt. 2 began: in this moment. 

I had finished off maybe my third beer when Emily feigned a shocked gasp. I looked up to her dangling keys in my face.

"Shelby, this is terrible...not good...one of our valued customers left his keys at the bar! If only I could get away for a moment..." 

"Are you suggesting I go do this for you?" I quipped, smiling bitterly. "...Who even am I taking these to?"

"Oh Shelby, what a lifesaver! He's walking down south, towards the lake." Emily pressed the keys in my hand before turning curtly and beginning to walk back to her duty station behind the bar. 

"Em wait...who is it?"

"Huh? Sorry! I can't hear you over the noise in here!"

I watched as she forcefully clinked together dishes and glasses in the near-empty bar, and wondered how I had gotten stuck with her as my burden.

.............................

I slung my backpack over my shoulder as I headed towards the end of the square. I didn't know who the fuck these keys were for. I didn't even really know the name of any person here in town. 

_Hopefully they'll just take the keys and be on their way._

As I rounded the corner to the lake, I caught him: the keyless culprit. Bent over on his knees near the side of the street, puking pitifully. I felt like a nature documentary narrator.

_As you can see, the wild Town Drunk is in his natural habitat, forced to evacuate his stomach after overhunting..._

I grinned to myself, and quickly put on a straight face as I came up behind him, just as he was wiping the acid off his face.

"Hey uh, you left your-"

"I don't know you. Leave me alone." He croaked weakly, staggering to his feet. I sighed and stared at him, unimpressed. 

"Listen, you left your keys at the bar, asshole."

He turned around quickly, almost tipping over from the force, and began patting his cargo pockets quickly (who in Yoba's name wears cargo shorts?). His already too-red face turning even hotter with embarrassment, he held out his open hand.

"Oh, uh...I guess I did. I almost locked myself out, I guess."

"Yeah, I guess you almost did." I began walking past him quickly, heading towards the southern entrance of the farm. When I turned up the dirt path, I saw him standing stationary, a look on his face somewhere between completely wasted and confused.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really excited to be writing a fanfic that's a bit different than some of the others in term of setting. Thank you for supporting my endeavor <3


	3. Rule #3: Weather Is Irrelevant

I'll admit, I didn't sleep well the next few nights after meeting him.

In some fucked up way, his face was familiar to me. I told myself that he had a pretty generic face, that he looked like every slightly chubby guy in a bar I had ever seen. I had seen plenty of grown men crying and puking after last call. I had also seen that expression, of pure drunkenness, thousands of times before. But it wasn't just drunkenness, was it? It was like the look of someone who had peered out of a train window and seen an old friend unexpectedly, with raised eyebrows and a slightly agape mouth.

I tossed and turned, wondering if I had ever met him before, maybe at a bar downtown, or possibly when we took a cab together as strangers. Had I taken a class with him in college? I wondered if maybe he knew, if somewhere in his flooded mind he remembered me from someplace.

I figured I was being sentimental over nothing, that he was a complete and total stranger, and that it was all coincidence.

.....................

The 23rd was a nightmare.

After a night of little restful sleep and several dozen texts from Emily to "not forget!", I pulled on the clothes I had worn the evening before and made my way slowly to Emily's home. The town was nearly silent, which perturbed me. No doors opened or closed. No kids. No nothing.

When I finally found myself at Em's door, it was unlocked and slightly ajar. 

In true Emily fashion, the lights were all out, and the curtains were closed. Lit candles on every surface as far as I could see (which was irresponsible, as I would remind Em again and again), leading up to her bedroom door. Part of me wondered how she afforded so many candles...and whether or not she bought them just for this occasion. 

I knocked and rolled my eyes. In a dramatic, wavering voice, Emily called out, "Oh, come in!" with a pathetic little cough. Upon entry, a few hundred candles with Emily in bed, wearing a thin lace nightgown. She looked ready for a funeral.

"What in the name of god are you doing?" I hissed, unsure if Haley was home and if she knew about the looney bin her sister had turned their home into. "Are you insane?!"

"Shelby, I have caught...A COLD." Emily blew her nose dramatically before pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. "I shall not be able to attend the Flower Dance tomorrow..."

"What are you talking about? Where did you get all of these?!" I motioned to the mountain of candles, lit and dripping wax onto one another.

Emily sat up suddenly. "They come in 6 packs from Joja-Mart. But seriously, Shelby, I had a premonition."

I shook my head and narrowed my eyes at her. "You must have a fever. I'll call the doctor." I stood to grab her phone when her tiny hand gripped my wrist with a strength I didn't know she had, especially on her deathbed. 

"You need to listen. You have to take my place tomorrow at the Flower Dance. It's Yoba's will."

"Yoba? What the fuck do you mean, Yoba?"

"Well technically it was his receptionist, Sharon, who delivered the message, but I digress..."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before turning back around to Emily, looking up at me fiercely. "Em, I don't know what happened to you, if your fever boiled your brain, or whatever-"

"You're bound to him!" She whispered breathily. Her eyes were like an animal's, bright and wild. For half a moment, she didn't even look like herself.

"What?" I squeaked back, unsure I wanted an answer.

Emily's eyes softened and she laid back triumphantly in bed. "You're bound to him, according to Yoba. You have to take my place in the Flower Dance, he and I were supposed to be partners. I saw it before you even agreed to come out, but you have to make it happen quickly."

I furrowed my brow, mouth agape. "What...who...is this why you were so quick to have me come out? So I could commit you?"

Emily laughed breezily. "I faked the letter."

"You...what?"

"That letter from your grandfather? I faked it."

_That explains the kitty sticker sealing the envelope_ , I mused in my confusion.

"But...okay...but why?"

"You had to come out here. I had a dream, and it's paramount to the success of the town. It's paramount to the success of all of us, really. Listen, Shelby, when I had these dreams in the past...did they ever NOT happen? Remember when I begged you to hack off your hair in high school, and some girl's pony tail caught on fire in chemistry?"

I paused for a moment and ran my fingers through my dark, bobbed hair. I remembered Emily's dream, and her insistence that we cut our hair, even though I cried the whole time.

"What about the time I deleted the number of the guy you met at the bar, and it turned out he had killed two other girls he had met at the same place?"

The news report was fresh in my mind.

"Okay...I mean, you've had hunches...but you made me take leave from my position to come out here so I could make out with...who even is this guy?"

Emily smiled sweetly. "You already know who he is." I must have grimaced, because Emily giggled softly at my expression.

"...Why...?"

"Listen, I can't tell you anymore. Please just do this for me, and for us, and possibly for the whole town."

"...You're insane, but I love you."

"I made you a dress."

........................


	4. Rule #4: Act Like A Lady

I looked like JonBenet Ramsey.

Dressed in what could only be described as child pageant flounciness, I silently cursed myself in the mirror for being pulled into another of Emily's impulsive schemes. How she knew I'd go along with them at all was beyond me; maybe she really DID talk to Yoba.

"Is this really...uh...a TRADITIONAL outfit?" I half whined, surveying the damage as I turned back in forth in the mirror. "I just...everyone else is wearing this too, right? I'm not showing up looking like I was going to a toddler's birthday party?"

Emily frowned. "Yes, all the younger women in town are wearing these. Don't look so upset! I worked hard on this for you."

I sighed and adjusted irritably in my gown. I felt like I was a casting extra for Gone With The Wind, but with a back-up gig on some TLC mommy-horror show. My makeup felt too overdone, nearly covering the uneven smattering of freckles on my cheeks and nose.

_Here goes nothing, except my dignity, I suppose._

_..................._

Can I just say that I hate festivals? Unless food is being supplied, I really don't want to be there. Or be seen. Or see other people. In fact, just have the food sent to my house and leave me alone. I wasn't cut out for this country, community-based life.

"What even is his name?" I hissed at Em through clenched teeth, standing awkwardly in her doorframe as she resumed her pitiful "sick" routine. 

"Don't worry about that. You'll figure it out soon." She laughed in her pixie way, waving her hand to dismiss me. "For the love of Yoba, don't drink the punch."

Defeated, my shoulders sagged. I would be stuck at this festival for HOURS, with no one I really knew. If Emily was sent to torture me, I wouldn't be surprised. She seemed to be having a great time doing it.

"What makes you think I'll show up? What's stopping me from going right home and lying to you about it tomorrow?"

"Oh, you won't do that." Her dark eyes sparkled as she shut and locked the door, leaving me out in the breezy street, alone.

 _I hate her._ I pouted bitterly.

................

Let me just say it, loud and clear, if you missed it before: I hate festivals.

I hate the fair. I hate the circus. I even hate petting zoos...unless they have those baby goats.

I stood, less than enthused, in the corner near the punch bowl. I realized halfway through my first glass someone had emptied a reasonable amount of what I assume was vodka directly into the crystalline bowl. I had my money on Pam, but the alcohol made being a showdog more bearable.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

"Marnie, I don't get why you insist on signing me up every damn year. This isn't little league soccer. I'm a grown man!" 

"Shush, Shane, you'll upset Jas. This has been traditional in this town since I was a little girl, and before that..." The plump woman stood with her hand on her hip, a pen tapping impatiently on a clipboard on the table next to her. 

There he was.

Wearing a powder blue suit with a crooked bowtie and messy, unwashed hair, the Drunk. The dark bags under his eyes looked as if they were weighing him down, forcing him to slump his shoulders. He looked slightly sweaty, with ruddy cheeks and chapped lips.  _This guy is a hot fucking mess._

His ragtag family was truly something to behold. The women he was with, possibly his mother, or maybe not, since he had called her by his first name. She looked pulled together, with a dated haircut and a sweet, round face. The little girl dancing around his legs, laughing and chanting, looked nothing like the other two. Her big dark eyes were serious, even in play.

I forced myself to look away and focused on my drink. At least we had something in common, both being forced here against our will.

"And who is he with this year, Lewis?" Marnie's face went pink in the softest parts as she spoke softly to the man across the table. Mr. Mayor cleared his throat, his face a matching shade.

"He was supposed to be with Ms. Emily, but...it seems she came down with a cold a few evenings ago. She sent our newest citizen as her replacement."

I knew I shouldn't be eavesdropping. I felt a lump in my throat, and promptly chugged the contents of my little plastic cup. I felt several eyes on me, and the reluctance to look up at them further alienated me.

"Oh Shane!" Marnie prodded, shooing him over towards me, her voice an excited whisper. "Go say hello! Go ask her to dance!"

"Uncle Shane, she looks like a princess!" Jas squealed, hugging Shane's legs. "You're like a Prince...a Prince Charming!"

Shane's face went a shade of red I had never seen before. His eyes shyly scanned the ground as his niece released him and he slowly made his way over.

"I don't want to dance." He mumbled lowly to me, once he had crossed the field. "Just pretend I'm asking you, and say no."

"That makes two of us." I replied curtly. Why did my face feel so hot?

Looking up at me now, I could see how bloodshot his eyes were. His chubby face was unshaven, with varying degrees of stubble. He swallowed, embarrassed, and turned to walk back towards the entrance. This seemed to be a common occurrence for him, being shot down and humiliated. 

With a rising sense of panic, a voice whispered out "Wait!"

It had come from me, but it didn't feel much like my own.

Shane stopped in his tracks, and turned his head slightly. 

"I'm...I'm going to get out of here. You can come with me."

With an air of confusion, he turned to face me fully, his brow furrowed. "Come with you?"

"Yeah, just...I need to get out of this hellhole."

A cynical grin passed quickly over his face before disappearing. "I can do that."

......................

It was surprisingly easy to ditch these types of things. I felt like somewhat of a professional. You name an event, I've gotten out of one. A wedding? Told them I was going to my car, never came back. A dinner with an ex-boyfriend's parents? Slept with his best friend, was quickly uninvited. A funeral? Told them my mother died and that wouldn't work for me.

Taking a bumpy walk through the back parts of the forest to leave a traditional festival held in a small town? Never done it, but I'm always one to give it the old college try.

After about 15 or 20 minutes of walking, we were far enough from the party that we could stop. I looked to my left, at the looming lake bobbing surely in front of us. 

"Oh, thank Yoba." I breathed, as I kicked off the dangerous heels Emily had loaned me. "I couldn't take another minute of it."

Shane was silent, leaning up against a tree as he spaced off in the distance, watching the lake shimmer and bubble under the cool spring sun.

"I hate these shoes," I continued to seethe, "I hate this stuffy dress."

I shimmied the heavy mass of fabric off my shoulders, and over my hips. I stood facing the lake, standing in a long dress slip and my bare feet, planted firmly on the soft soil. When I turned back, Shane was blushing again, pretending not to notice.

"Don't be such a prude," I chided, pulling a carton from my bra. "Do you want a cigarette?"

Shane's eyebrows raised. "I didn't take you as a smoker."

"I'm not sure why you take me as much of anything." I placed a cigarette between my made-up lips. I watched as he made a motion towards the carton, which I handed over without a fight.

We stood there for a long, quiet moment, enjoying the silence and the smell of smoke.

"...Buh, they stress me out." He finally muttered, putting out the dying cigarette beneath his feet.

"Who, the townsfolk?"

"My family."

I couldn't think of anything to say. I guess I could've asked him "Why?" or maybe "How come?" but the words felt unnatural in my mouth.

Finally, I managed a weak "Mine too."

..................

He didn't walk me home.

That was fine, I wasn't expecting him to. Shortly after our conversation (if you could call it that), Shane turned and left without another word. I didn't follow him, or call out after him, or go running into his arms and make passionate love to him. This isn't some fanfiction.

I watched him go, and something inside of me ached sadly. The feeling didn't do much for me, or even give me any clues as to why this stone wall of a human being elicited such a needless response. 

After the sky waned and went dark, I gathered up my things and left for home. The trail was quiet and cold, the lake glassy and smooth. Something about it unsettled me. Maybe it was the absence of noise, big holes missing that city life had filled. I trudged home, bare-footed and half-naked.

Standing in the shower, I listened to the peaceful night air rush in through the open window in the adjacent bedroom. I never really noticed how lonely I was, until I was left with it. 

I wondered if he was lonely too. I thought better of it, told myself it was a stupid thought, and turned and slammed the window shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really excited to keep on with this story...Shane is a total mess and I can't wait for him to possibly clean up his act :0


	5. Rule #5: Make Up Your Mind

"I don't think I like him."

Emily glanced up sleepily from her cross stitch, her face lit up by the dim glow of the television. "What do you mean?" 

I squirmed uncomfortably under the big knit blanket we snuggled under on the couch. It felt alien to share feelings like this with Em, even if she was my best friend. I felt my stomach flip.

"He's just...he drinks a lot."

"So do you, Shelby." Em smiled slyly to herself, pulling the needle and thread skillfully through. "Anyway, it's not up to you, fully."

I let my head loll to the side, a glassy expression on my face as I stare through whatever show we were watching. "I don't know how anyone could love him, he's a right ass."

Emily giggled and nudged me with her foot. "I guess you'll find out, huh?"

.........................

Summer was finally ending. I sat on the newly restored front porch, pleased with how the renovated house was coming along, as well as the spruced up fields and modest chicken shed.  _Soon,_ I promised myself,  _someone will buy this off of me and I'll be free._

Emily offhandedly suggested I start buying livestock for "my" farm. I suggested she mind her own business, since I wasn't staying here through the end of fall. Somewhere, deep down, I wondered if I was making the right choice. In the city, I was constantly busy with bus schedules, work schedules, clients, phone calls, fancy restaurants and bad dates with guys who tried to invite me to see their shitty bands. Was it that much better? Out here, at least it was quiet...a blessing and a curse. I hadn't heard a car horn honk in months, no catcalls from the alleyway, no crowded subways.

I felt torn, between keeping or selling such a large piece of land that could be all mine.

It felt like Shane was lingering. Mostly he was silent, except for moody grunts and an occasional passing comment. I'd catch him at the south end of the farm, taking note of all the changes and updates. I'd catch his eyes on me at the saloon, looking away after a moment of eye contact. I even had him offer to carry my groceries home, at the insistent urging of Marnie.

One evening on the lake, I caught him on the dock, pants rolled up to his knees, his ankles surrounded by water in the summer heat. I attempted to pass by quietly, but he noticed me as I brushed by, and offered me a beer.

"I can't refuse that," I told him with a small smile.

I felt mute again, listening to him talk, in a thick, strangled voice, about his shitty job and his regrets parenting and his gridball knee injury. I could tell he was drunk, by the gentle, misty look in his eyes and his red cheeks.

"What is it that you want, Shelby?" He asked softly, lying back on the dock, staring absently at the dark sky.

I paused before cleared my throat, tears pressing against the back of my eyes. "I don't know." 

He smiled cryptically, and told me he had work. I barely heard him as I nodded. 

When he stood up to go, I watched him leave, no words formulating.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters out today! If I have time tomorrow, one or two more might get written up! Let me know what you think, I love suggestions for my work.


	6. Rule #6: Sometimes Festivals Have Baby Goats

The beginning of the spiral started with a dream. 

I dreamt I was in a wheat field, with the wheat too high to see over. Somewhere in my dream-heart, I knew it was a good thing, but I felt suffocated by it. I heard a man's voice, saw a man's hand. I took it, but felt unsure. My phone rang, but there was only static.

I woke up sweating and dizzy.

............

I was halfway through a cup of coffee and the weather report when I heard a timid knock on my front door.

I slipped my feet back into the bunny slippers Emily made me and padded softly to the door, looking out the peephole for good measure. On the other end, a freshly sobered and nicely dressed Shane, a freshly laundered flannel and khaki pants, a look of irritability and uncertainty mixed on his face in a scowl.

"Oh, hey. What are you doing here? It's like 6:30 in the morning..." I yawned passively, checking my wrist watch. 

Shane mashed his hands together, anxiously picking at his fingers. "The fair is today." 

"Oh." I wrinkled my nose and leaned against the doorframe. "You and your aunt were setting up today, yeah?"

"That's...not why I'm here." He sighed and ran his fingers through his clean hair. Had he gotten a haircut? "...I'm fucking uncomfortable," He finally sputtered, with a short, acrid laugh.

"Do you want to come in?" I offered, opening the door wider.

"No, I...I thought maybe you'd want to play some games today. They also have pretty good beer, I can't usually get any extra afterwards, otherwise I'd just bring you some..." He rubbed his cleanly-shaven face self-consciously as he rambled. Did he get all cleaned up for me?

"Oh!" I paused for a moment, which didn't help Shane's nervous demeanor. "I don't normally do stuff like that..."

"It was a stupid question. I'm sorry. I'll go."

"No! No...what time did you want to meet?"

If Shane has one thing going against him, it's that he wears his mood on his face too well. I could see the clouds rolling in and out, darkening and lighting his face like the autumn sky. A look of shock covered him, before turning into a victorious beam. He looked about 10 years younger. "...Maybe in an hour? I still have to help Aunt Marnie, and Jas wants me to take her to see the animals..."

"Animals?"

"Yeah, they usually have some dinky petting zoo...chickens and goats, y'know?"

"Hang on, I'm grabbing my shoes. I'm coming with you."

...............

The world has a sense of justice. Every bad thing has a good counterpart.

Sometimes, this means festivals have baby goats.

I gladly took Jas' little hand to go peek at the fall babies, while Shane and Marnie rolled out their cart, filling their display stand with cheeses and eggs. We squealed and gasped at the tiny animals, little piglets and baby chicks and chubby goat babies with little tiny hooves. 

I fell in love that day.

When Shane had finished, he wandered over to the petting zoo pen with a beer in each hand: one for me, one for him. He handed one to me absently, straightening his shirt with his free hand and smoothing his hair. "Well, Jas, what do you think? Time to move on to games?"

"Uncle Shane, no!" She protested, pointing boldly into the pen, a baby goat licking her hand happily. "We NEED one of these! Can we ask Aunt Marnie...? Please?"

Shane smiled warmly down at her, flipping the tag from the back of her dress back into it's place. "How about this? You go butter Aunt Marnie up, and I'll talk to her tonight about it?" 

This seemed to please her greatly, and she ran off at full speed, nearly crashing into Sebastian and his mother, Robin.

"Are you really going to talk Marnie into a baby goat?" I asked with a grin, imagining the cute baby goat clothes I could talk Emily into making.

"Sure, why not. Marnie loves shit like that." He took a swig of his beer, and cleared his throat. "What about you?"

"Oh, I love them."

He stifled a big toothy grin, and barked a laugh. "I meant...were you ready to go play some games?"

I blushed and quickly drank down some of the beer he provided me. "Ready when you are."

............

The fair ended well into the evening. The stars were out, the air was light and crisp, and more and more my heart was breaking over the inevitable move back home. I didn't win a single goddamn game; Shane told me I was too drunk, and I laughed in agreement. He, on the other hand, got better at games the drunker he got. I watched in a drunken awe as he tumbled empty milk bottles with a gridball. The tokens we won bought us more ale into the night.

I don't think I had remembered him looking so young until that night. Something had changed in him, other than his clean face and washed clothes.

He looked less lonely.

That's the first night he offered to walk me home. "The long way, y'know?" he offered, as he stuffed his hands in his khaki pockets.

We exchanged stories about our city lives, our friends, what we majored in at college. Shane told me a dirty joke and made himself blush when he told it wrong, which was funnier than the joke promised to be. I told him about how I broke my ankle jumping into an empty swimming pool at a party. He laughed when I told him my friends puked when they saw the bone.

That's when things went wrong.

"So you quit your Joja job, Shelby?" He asked, bubbling from the alcohol.

"Not really. I just took a leave of absence. I'm going back in a few weeks."

Shane's face crumpled and he stopped walking. I watched the dark clouds roll over him.

"What do you mean...? I thought you were deeded the farm, I thought..."

Drunk and puzzled, I turned to face him. "I was. I'm fixing it up to sell. I can't afford to keep my apartment and the farm."

His light-heartedness melted back into a look of hurt and betrayal. "Oh. Listen, you're almost home, right?"

"Are you going...?" I asked, following him halfway down the trail. "I don't understand-"

"Look, why don't you just go home already?" He snapped, his features twisted in agony and rage.

It was my turn to stand there stationary, confused and swirling from the alcohol. _Did I say something?_

I don't remember if I cried or not on the way home, but I remember hoping it was all a horrible, messy dream. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist, I saw this youtube video about baby goats and I just died. 
> 
> Shane + Cute Baby Goat = Happy Fanfiction
> 
> I also can't help myself. I have an idea and it gets published. Does it make for a weird ff? Yes. Does it mean you get lots of ff chapters? Oh yes.


	7. Rule #7: You'll Get Attached

Shane's a stubborn ass, sometimes. He's especially stubborn when he's drunk, and when he's nearly drunk...let's be honest, he's stubborn when he's sober.

I woke up the morning after the festival hungover and blurry, wondering if we had seriously had an argument over something so trivial. I was convinced when I checked my phone and found several text messages waiting for me:  
  
_I don't want to see you anymore._

I raised my eyebrows skeptically.

_I didn't mean that. I'm an idiot._

_Forget I said anything._

_I'm still mad at you, though._

_I didn't mean that either._

I flipped through the texts a couple of times before tossing my phone down on my mattress. I wasn't really sure if I should respond to him, if I had anything to say that would make him feel more confident about me leaving. "Sorry I'm an asshole, I'll be out of your hair soon enough!" I grimaced at his possible responses and gave it up.

I couldn't tell you why the idea of his sad, dark eyes haunted me the rest of the morning and well into the afternoon. I began practicing my good-byes. I half-hoped he wouldn't want to hear it.

...........

"Maybe you should go talk to him. He's obviously upset about you leaving."

I stopped stirring my tea and sighed across the table from Em. "He's not really the talking type, you know that."

"Trust me, everyone knows that. Yoba isn't exactly pleased, though. I'll never hear the end of it if you two don't make up and figure it out." Emily turned the newspaper page and took a long sip from her mug.

"Well, maybe Yoba made a mistake."

Em laughed bemusedly as she poured herself another cup. "That's VERY cute, Shelby. Hand me your mug."

............

"Hey, Marnie...is Shane home?"

Marnie was turning around her shop's sign by the time I had made it, and she turned around looking slightly shocked. "Good morning, Ms. Shelby...is he home? That's all he's been today. Hasn't even gotten out of bed. Did something happen?"

 _Sly woman._ "Er, I don't think so. I just was bringing him by some stuff he had mentioned needing." I was glad, in this moment, I had remembered to stop by Pierre's, the perfect cover.

Marnie looked suspicious, but smiled warmly as she let me in and led me to Shane's bedroom door. She knocked tentatively. "Shane? You have a visitor..."

"Not interested."

She rolled her eyes. "Like a moody teenager, that boy. He hasn't changed a bit." She clucked her tongue and cracked the door. "Shane, you can't hide in here all day. Ms. Shelby is here, she has some things-"

"REALLY not interested."

She turned back to me, connecting the dots before the lightbulb behind her eyes went off. "Ah, I just remembered...I have something in the oven...Shelby, you can deal with this from here, yeah?" Marnie brushed past me quickly, peering around the corner as I pushed the door open wider.

Shane was lying on his disheveled futon in the dark, the only glow coming from a freshly paused video game. The floor was littered in empty beer cans and dirty laundry. He was dirty himself: unwashed, unshaved and wearing a filty graphic t-shirt and boxers. 

He made a charming disaster.

"Uh, hey...maybe we should talk?" I shut the door behind me, shuffling slowly over to the side of his bed.

"No thanks."

"Hey, what's your issue?" I knelt down next him, my face more fierce than I was hoping. "We had a great time, and everything was cool until you flipped-"

"Y'know, I think we had too good of a time. You're leaving soon for your fancy city job and your fancy city boyfriend-"

"I never claimed to have a boyfriend, Shane..." I whispered lowly, searching his face. "Is that the issue? You think I'm jerking you around?"

His eyes hardened before unpausing his game and looking away. "Get out."

I stood up, defeated. "This is for you, I'll see you around I guess." I left the plastic bag of beer on his floor, hoping Marnie wouldn't meet me at the door with any prying questions.

.............

The farm looked like a dream once the barn had been pulled up. I was half-proud of myself, even though Robin had done all the work. I felt like a pencil pusher, signing forms and submitting paperwork for the land listing. My leave was coming to end quickly, and I felt like a robot. Emily came and went, a knowing look on her face. Honestly, if it hadn't been for her, I would've forgotten to eat or sleep.

I hadn't really brought much stuff with me when I came out, and I was thankful for that. Most of my things were packed in advance, my tickets were bought, and I had sent an email to my supervisor with the intent of coming back on Thursday. I had finished early and could safely leave.

Shane didn't respond to my texts, so I stopped texting. I hadn't seen him coming or going from work, I stopped waiting. I felt sick to my stomach.

...........

"Come hang out at the bar tonight, I'll take you to the bus terminal in the morning."

"I really don't want to see him, Em."

"He hasn't been there for a week, Shelby. I doubt he'd come tonight. Even if he did show up, what's the worse that could happen?"

I groaned. "Haven't you tired yourself out, trying to get us together?"

Emily smirked sadly. "Not yet, no."

........... 

After Emily retired to her room, I slipped out and shut the front door quietly behind me. Tossing and turning in bed was making things worse, I knew it. I zipped up my jacket and braced against the near-winter chill as I headed towards the lake. 

I needed some fresh air.

I ambled aimlessly around the lake, staring at it's placid glassiness and listened to the uneven plops and ripples as the midnight rain struck it. I felt like I was in someone else's bad dream, a bad romance novel written by someone who enjoyed making their characters feel helpless and hopeless.

As I reached the southern part of the lake, I stopped and breathed in. The smell of fern, moss and dirt hit me hard, and made my heart and stomach ache. I'd be gone in the morning, and I would have no real reason to come back.

I heard sobbing.

At first, I thought it was a bird. Then I told myself that was stupid, no birds are awake at 2:45 in the morning, save for owls, and this was definitely not an owl. 

"...Hello?" I called out, unsure.  _Please don't hack me to death, please don't hack me to death..._

I cursed myself for reading too many horror stories. This is how it ended: Yoba was pissed I didn't fuck Shane, and now Slenderman was going to break my kneecaps and I'd roam the forest, eating kids...

That's how that story goes, right?

As I fumbled for my phone, I heard a low moan, like someone with a stomach ache. The voice sounded familiar...

It was Shane.

My heart sped up and I pushed through the foliage, hot blood pumping in my ears. When I saw him, I caught my breath and called out so softly, I wasn't sure I had said anything at all. He half-turned, hiccuping and gasping. I stumbled over heavy roots and the washed-out path to the small cliff his legs were hanging over.

"Shane, what are you doing?" I breathed, although I knew exactly what he was doing. The ground around him had 5, 8, 12...18 beer cans. The front of his shirt, covered in vomit and soaking wet from the rain. I could tell he hadn't slept well the last night or two.

"I'm going to roll right off and save everyone the trouble," he slurred, heavy tears rolling down his face. "I'm insig...insignificant and stupid and...you'll hate me."

"Why would I hate you?" I made a timid move toward him before he jerked his arm away. "Shane, you need to move away from the edge, you're making me nervous."

"Maybe you should look away."

I felt something hot bubble in my stomach as I grabbed his arm and yanked him. In his surprise and stupor, he was easy to move. I pinned him down underneath my weight.

"I'm not leaving you here, and I won't let you do this. This isn't your choice anymore."

Shane's face twisted as he sobbed louder, turning his head to puke weakly. "Fuck you," he moaned. "Fuck you, take your fucking bus home..."

"Dr. Harvey is going to be pissed at you."

...........

"Well, we had to pump his stomach. The alcohol poisoning is bad enough, but his mental health is the biggest concern." Dr. Harvey, in his cotton pajamas, flipped back and forth between the paperwork, making notes and circling values. "Listen, you can go home and get some rest. I know you're leaving tomorrow."

"I can't just leave him."

"You might want to call Emily then, and let her know where you are. I've already left Marnie a message." He rubbed his eyes, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and yawned. "He's lucky you found him."

I felt sick hearing that. I was the reason he was there in the first place.

Dr. Harvey rattled off some medical information, about the procedures done and the risks. I signed the forms for Shane absently, my heart breaking and pulling.

When he shut the door behind him, I peered behind the hospital screen.

"Shane?"

Half-asleep, Shane burped and gurgled before turning his head towards me. "I'm not ready to get up."

"Shh, you're not going anywhere. Listen, I can't leave you here like this. I have to stay until I know you're okay."

Shane nodded sleepily.

"Hey, I have something to tell you." My heart flipped as I crouched down by his bed side, the sheets crisp and clean.

"Mm."

"We, uh...we have to make it work."

"Mmwhat?"

I ran a hand over my face, embarrassed. "Emily, uh...Emily said it would be in our best interest to make it work."

"Why?" He mumbled, breathing heavily.

"Yoba." I squeaked. 

"Yoba?" His brows furrowed over his unfocused eyes.

"Uh...Emily knows things that most of us don't know. I'm not sure HOW she knows it, but..."

"So...what you're telling me is she set us up because she spoke to God?"

"Technically it was his secretary, but that's not what's important here."

Shane closed his eyes and moaned deeply. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Well," I started, intrepidly. "You could let me feed you later this morning."

"God, I'm so hungry."

"I'll take that as a yes." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating yesterday, the flu has been going around which is NOT conducive to story writing. Anyway, let me know what you guys think and what you want to see more of!


	8. Rule #8: It's Only Awkward When You Call It A Date

I woke up again around 4 AM, less than an hour after I had fallen asleep. I noticed Shane was missing from the hospital bed and panicked before registering the sound of running water in the bathroom.

"...I didn't wake you up, did I?" He whispered, toweling off his hair. He had redressed himself in a clean hospital gown, his hairy legs visible. 

"No, but...it's so early, why are you up? You should be resting," I mumbled, smoothing my hair. I guess I had passed out on the couch after the adrenaline wore off.

"I can't let Marnie see me all fucked up like that. I smelled so bad I kept waking MYSELF up." He scrunched his nose and sat down next to me, hesistant. "I, uh...don't remember much of what happened."

I sat silent for a moment before adjusting the blanket around me. "Well, you're an alcoholic, so let's start there..."

He let out a restrained chuckle and ran his fingers, raw from being picked nervously, through his damp hair. "I guess...I owe you an apology for being a mega asshole."

"I can deal with you being an asshole, but I can't deal with you being a DEAD asshole. You can't be both."

"I have some...shit to work on," he cringed, squeezing his hands together. 

"...You really don't remember anything?"

"I remember you offering to feed me once I'm out."

.........

Marnie's tear stained face was a sobering response to any lighthearted conversation Shane and I had exchanged earlier that morning. I watched Jas in the waiting room while Marnie spoke to Shane "privately" (A.K.A. chewing him out and promptly spitting him out for scaring her and Jas so badly).

Jas sat coloring when I received a phone call from my supervisor.

"You're still coming back today, right?" He asked when I briefly explained the situation.

"I might need a few more days to tie up lose ends...I mean I can't just leave like this."

"The deal was-"

"Sir, I'm familiar, but you can't just-"

The phone call didn't end well. Specifically, it ended with my position being terminated. 

In a haze, I hung up and walked back inside to a knowing Jas.

"Was that your boss, Aunt Shelby?" She inquired, focusing on her drawing.

"It was."

"They didn't sound very nice to you."

"They weren't."

"Are you staying here from now on?"

"I guess I am, for a little bit."

"That's good," she stated matter-of-factly. "Uncle Shane was sad about you. Aunt Marnie told me so."

I winced.  _Well, fuck._

_.........._

Marnie let Shane have it. At least, that's what he had texted me once he was released and sent home. His brief text told me that 1. He was absolutely eviscerated and 2. He was being forced to comply with Dr. Harvey's counseling recommendation. He was pissed about both.

I didn't tell him about losing my job.

About a week after his hospitalization, I paid him a visit. He looked healthier already, cutting most of his alcohol intake and getting regular meals. He still complained about it though, just like the asshole I knew he was.

"You need to get me the fuck out of here." He hissed one evening as we sat camped out in his room. "I think if I spent one more night sitting around the dinner table with Marnie and Lewis I'm going to puke..."

"Are you asking to take me up on my dinner offer?"

"Yoba, yes. Turn around, now." Shane rifled through his dirty laundry for a less-dirty-than-the-rest shirt.

"Do you ever do laundry?" I teased. "You're familiar with washing machines?"

"Kid, if it doesn't smell sweaty or greasy, it's clean."

......

The only place you can really order fresh food is the bar, meaning Emily will make lovey eyes at you and whoever you're with while you eat. Which means you spend most of your meal feeling uncomfortable and wondering why your life is like this.

Shane was as obtuse as ever, eating happily and silently. I guess knowing Yoba is rooting for a blossoming relationship kills your appetite.

"See, I didn't know you guys were dating!" Gus crowed in his naturally loud voice, slapping Shane on the back (which made him almost choke on his burger). He shot Gus a dirty look.

"Uh, we're not." 

"But that's what Emily told me!" He offered defensively, turning to look at her as she shrugged her shoulders.

Shane blushed angrily and huffed. "This isn't a date, right Shelby?"

"N-no!" I stammered as I looked back at him and demured, turning as red as the peppers on my plate. "Unless...you wanted it to be. Or not. Not that I care."

"Well fuck, I would've worn something clean at least..." He complained, adjusting uncomfortably in his worn clothes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This flu won't get me down! I hope everyone else is staying healthy and keeping warm ♡


	9. Rule #9: Yoba Is Occasionally Right

When Shane used the word "date", my skin crawled. I'm pretty sure his did too, considering the look of bashful indignation stretched tautly across his face the evening before. When he insisted we plan our night out "over the phone", I knew it was to save himself the embarrassment of having me look at him while he asked.

"I can take you...out...to a gridball game, if you're into that. Is that a stupid idea?" He sighed in vexation, and I could hear him fiddling uncomfortably over the phone. "...I haven't been on a date in...five years...I'm an idiot."

"I mean, technically you took me out the fair, that was a date."

"That wasn't a date."

"Usually when you get dressed up and get someone drunk, it's a date."

"Shelby, shut up."

"Also, why are you ASKING me what I want to go do? You're supposed to TELL me what we're going to do."

Shane huffed and lowered his voice. "Well, why don't YOU ask me out then? It's not as easy as it sounds, having to...hear your voice...and look at your face."

"I'm a hideous monster, I know. Why don't you just come pick me up tonight and we'll do whatever it is you planned to do?"

There was a moment of discomforting silence over the line. "...You aren't joking, right? This isn't some Punk'd shit?"

"I promise, no Punk'd shit."

...................

Ah, the bus. It all starts and ends with a bus. I hope that, when I die, I get a first-class trip on a bus back to wherever it is I came from.

Shane cleans up nicely, if you can believe it. How long it took him to do that, however, I wouldn't dare to guess. While a shower and a newly shaved face went far for him, I could tell he had tried particularly hard to impress me. I noticed he had nicked his face, down on the jawline, shaving too aggressively. His gridball jersey was washed, ironed even, and he had used some cologne that I didn't know he even had (and it mortified him when I made notice of it). When I teasingly asked him what he had brought me to wear to the game, he pulled a soft, dark blue team sweatshirt out of his backpack before looking at me seriously:

"It's from my varsity years, I washed it."

I had to admit, the warm material felt heavenly against the cold winter air. He made nervous small-talk with me, as if he had forgotten we knew each other. As we boarded the bus and quickly realized how narrow the seats were, Shane's body went stiff as our hips touched on the seat. I watched him pick anxiously at his fingers.

"You don't need to give yourself a heart attack," I whispered. "I can stand if it would make you less uncomfortable."

"No, I, uh...that would be a dick move." He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and let out a jagged breath. "Listen, you look..."

I smirked, amused, as he opened his palm and looked down.

"You look...cute tonight."

"Did you...write that out on your palm?"

"You make me want to piss myself, I'm so nervous." 

"That's probably the nicest thing any guy has ever said to me."

.................

After spending so long in the quiet valley, the city noises felt oppressive. I had forgotten the sounds of cars on wet, mushy snow and the near-constant honking that accompanied them. The stadium was a whole different beast, as I could hear the pre-game roaring and cheering from fans from both sides.

Shane seemed undisturbed, and relaxed under the atmosphere. He obviously spent quite a bit of time here, either in the past or in the present. I hoovered closely to him.

"Do you want a beer?" He asked finally in a gentle voice, peering down at me. He seemed taller and more confident, maybe even a bit proud. I realized he was a chronic sloucher. What had gotten into him?

"Honestly, I want one for both hands."

Shane shot me a grin and squeezed my shoulder. 

"You're getting too used to that watery shit they sell at the saloon. If I'm taking you out, kid, you'll drink better than that."

..................

"Come here often?" I teased as Shane made his way back to our seats with another round of beers. The game was halfway over, with just enough time for fans to run and grab dinner or drinks. Shane was definitely looser after his third beer, judging from his crooked grin.

"Only with cute drunk girls," he teased back, handing me another whatever-it-was he had bought.

"I'm not drunk yet!" I pouted playfully, head swirling. Okay, maybe I was a little. 

He flashed a charming, broad smile. With snow sprinkled in his messy hair and his surprisingly focused, dark eyes, I felt my heart skip a beat.  _Holy shit, maybe Yoba was right._

Whether my face was deeply flushed from the alcohol or the messy, unnamed emotions floating in my stomach, I was sure it showed. I hardly noticed when our team scored the winning...touchdown...goal? When Shane stood to cheer loudly, I stood with him, staring maybe too intensely at his handsome face.

I think he would've kissed me even if we lost. I think he would've kissed me even if the stadium was burning around us. When he turned to look at me, eyes shining, I braced myself for a friendly hug. When he bent down and pulled me close into a warm, chaste kiss, my legs nearly gave out. 

When he pulled back, the look of enchantment was washed away by a look of horror.

"Jesus Christ, Shelby, I'm sorry! I shouldn't have-"

I was wrong: he talks TOO much.

I pulled him back into me, kissing him urgently. Although my eyes were closed, I felt him relax and wrap his arms around me tightly, a hand cupping my face as he pushed my hair out of the way. We breathed each other in deeply for what felt like eternity before he broke away gently, staring at me affectionately.

"I think you're drunk, maybe that shouldn't count."

"Are you asking for more?" I asked curiously.

He grinned darkly and grabbed both sides of my face, the world falling away beside us as our mouths met again.


	10. Rule #10: Yoba Is A Gossip

"You KISSED him? Oh I knew it!" Emily squealed, kicking the blanket off the sofa excitedly. "You have to tell me everything...well, I already got the basics from you-know-who, but-"

"Oh, for fuck's...does Yoba have a filter, or is he more the chatty high-schooler type?" I balked, shame rising from the bottom of my feet to the top of my head as I returned from the kitchen. Apparently Yoba had nothing better to do than tangle telephone lines, gossiping about this and that as if he had no pull on the events. I wondered how many other people, just like Emily, were getting a mental group text about my tonsil hockey meet. "I'm pretty sure this is along the lines of cyberbullying at this point, Em."

"Yoba isn't some nerd with a super-computer. Plus, you're just grumpy because you didn't get to go home with him." 

"First off, you don't know WHAT we did or didn't do-"

"Oh, Yoba told me  _everything._ " Emily's eyes lit up mischievously as she flipped through the channels on my ancient television.

I groaned and threw a pillow over my face. I wished I could punch Yoba right in his smug, possibly bearded face for doing this to me. Shane was one thing, dealing with Em was a different story.

"So, how much do you like him?" She pushed, settling on some Zuzu City channel full of food porn. 

"Didn't Yoba tell you that too?" I retorted, suffocating myself with the sofa cushion.

"I mean, I'd rather hear it from you than any of his heavenly council."

I gave up my death-by-couch-style execution and stared at the ceiling with a heavy sigh. 

"What am I supposed to say to him now?" I moaned, clutching the pillow to my chest. "'Hey, I know we made out for like 10 minutes at some sports event while we were drunk, you want to move in now?'"

"That wouldn't be the worst idea."

"You're a bad influence on my life."

..................

Shane stuffed a thawing frozen pizza in my mailbox.

What the fuck is this supposed to mean? Attached, a slightly damp post-it note hung pathetically from the soggy cardboard box.

 

_I don't know what to write, ~~I'm still a little drunk~~._

_Maybe I shouldn't have said that, it's not very romantic._

~~_Thanks for kissing me_ ~~

~~_Thanks for_ ~~

~~_Thank you (?)_ ~~

_Anyway, see you soon._

_- ~~Shne~~ Shane_

_P.S. I forgot the A, I'm an idiot_

 

I leaned against the bannister and sighed. He WAS an idiot. I guess he was my idiot now.

The uncertainty of our relationship status sat with me in a way I wasn't really enjoying. We both knew we liked each other enough to make out in front of half a million people. The morning after though, the air felt heavy with indecision. I had a feeling he felt the same way, since he had sent a "Good morning" text message (truly a modern day Casanova), and had made himself further scarce around town and at his job.

I was going to visit him today. I was going to get some answers. I'm the captain of this ship, right? 

Maybe this is why I was still single.

I took another look at the Joja brand pizza.

Maybe this is why he was, too.

............................

"Shane, you have a customer looking for you," Morris mentioned in passing, headed toward the break room (although he did nothing worthy of a break).

"Great." He mumbled as soon as his supervisor was out of earshot.

"You look cute in your little hat."

Shane loaded his box onto the push cart and turned around tentatively.

"Shelby? What are you doing here?"

"I brought you lunch, and some questions."

"I don't get lunches here in hell."

"You're getting a lunch today. Come on."

Shane peered cautiously around the aisle behind him before taking off his cap. 

"Fine, but we gotta be quick."

Once we were outside, I handed Shane a slightly bent cigarette, which he took graciously. The hatred he had for his job really knew no bounds, the least I could do was make him a-

"Grilled cheese sandwich?" He grinned, pulling it out of it's tinfoil. "You're really a domestic goddess."

"I could say the same, really bringing home the bacon with your frozen cheese pizza. Anyway, what's up with our make-out session?"

Shane gave it a brief thought and rubbed his chin. "What about it?"

_God, he drives me fucking crazy._ "I mean, are we just going to make-out every once in a blue moon or what? Where are we going?"

"Uh...well, I didn't really think about it."

"Think about it now."

He smiled impishly, which made my heart scream. Who said he was allowed to be so dark and dastardly? "I think I should take you out again, just to be sure."


	11. Rule #11: Coops Are Pretty Private

 

Once December rolled around, I had let it slip, unintentionally, that I had been fired. I think he felt guilty over it, because he had gotten pretty quiet and ended our date early over it, but assured me he wasn't upset later that night.

What I thought would turn into a week-long pout session turned out to be the most thoughtful gesture I think he could've mustered.

The next morning, Shane knocked rapidly at the door and I could hear him shuffling and shushing. It had snowed heavily the night before, and I noticed by the depth of his tracks leading towards the house that he probably ended up soaking wet from the knee down.

When I opened the door, he stood there, with a crooked grin and a bright red nose. He looked like he had gotten dressed in a hurry: his beanie was inside out, his jacket wasn't zipped and his scarf had come undone, if it had been done at all. In his arms, one of Jas' dollhouse blankets, wriggling and peeping anxiously.

"Hey, so, I felt really bad that you lost your job over me," he began, breathlessly. "I think I can fix it."

I must've been quiet for some time, half-asleep and blurry eyed, because he wasted no time unbundling the blanket before handing it to me. I pulled a corner up slowly and was met with a tiny baby chick, peeping and squeaking excitedly.

"You...got me a chicken?"

"I figured it's the easiest way to teach you how to do this farming thing right, kid." He rubbed the back of his neck and took another deep breath before beaming. "Isn't she cute?"

When I started sobbing, his face fell. "Oh god, did I do something wrong?"

"No, she's just...she's REALLY cute."

His face lit up again and he took my free hand.

"I named her Shelby Jr., because she's so cute. She's also a little mean."

I sniffled and glared up at him. "You did not."

Shane laughed deeply and stepped inside the house. "Let's find your shoes, we'll go get her set up in your coop."

........................

I'm pretty sure Shane speaks chicken. It's even possible he WAS a chicken in a past life. 

My first animal in what was to be my farm. I felt uncomfortable with the idea that all the responsibility of these animals, the fields, the house would come down to me.

Shane must've seen my hesitance. He squeezed my hand before whispering, "If I can figure it out, so can you."

When I turned my face towards his, he was already staring. His eyes were so dark brown they were nearly black, with heavy circles underneath them. They were soothing and loving, and when I moved in closer to kiss his lips, he gathered me up in his arms and pressed his lips against mine harder than I ever remember him doing. I felt his hand shyly creeping up the back of my shirt, his other hand gripping my waist. I let out a gasp when I felt how cold his hands were, which made him grin as he pushed us down on the soft, clean hay; I bit his lip, and he let out what sounded like something between a sigh and a moan.

His phone rang in his back pocket.

"Do you need to take that?" I half-whispered, half-moaned into his mouth. He ignored the question when the ringing stopped, and he pushed his tongue into mine. We were twisted together when his phone began ringing again.

"What the fuck do they want..." He grumbled, giving me one last passionate kiss before pulling his phone out. "Oh great, it's Morris."

I rolled my eyes and smiled up at him, squirming underneath his hips. Shane seemed glazed over, tuning out Morris' latest tirade. 

"No, sir, I can't come into work today. It's my only day off," He stated flatly and politely through slightly gritted teeth. His arm tensed. "...Yes sir. I'll see you at 7, sir."

"...Did he talk you into coming in?"

"More like he blackmailed me into coming in. You tell the little goblin no, he starts talking about cutting your hours." He sighed angrily and looked down at me before softening. "I'm sorry, I don't want to leave you like this, but I have to go."

"You should come work for me when things get big here." I traced the line of his jaw with my fingertips. He pulled a piece of straw out of my hair.

"You just want to harass the coop-boy."

"You know me a little too well, I think."

He groaned and peeled himself off of me. "Life is so fucking unfair. What a joke."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a shorter, transitional chapter while I work on a bigger one. I hope you guys enjoyed it!


	12. Rule #12: Red Threads Are Tricky

"I really appreciate you both coming over today, what I have to share is truly-"

"Emily, just spit it out. I really can't take one more second in this uniform."

Emily beamed. Shane's attitude never seemed to drag her down, not even for a moment. I rested my chin on my palm and waited for Em to give her "extra-huge announcement". Something about the way she worded it made me feel nauseous. For the past week, I hadn't seen much of her, but normally that wouldn't make me so nervous. When I would stop in to see her, she wouldn't be home. She also wasn't at work. I really couldn't imagine any other place she'd be, since she spent most of her free time scouring borrowed library books for design ideas and asking me (forcing me) to try them on.

"I guess I'll just come out and say it: Yoba is pleased with your progress together!"

"Yoba? Emily, I have no damn clue what you're talking about." Shane groaned and stood to leave, smoothing out his work shorts. 

"...Shelby, did you not tell him?" she asked, visibly hurt. 

"Tell me what?"

Suddenly,  _I_ was the bad guy for not translating Em's wild fantasy into a normal sequence of events and sharing them with the whole town. What was I supposed to say?  _"Just so you know, one day you're going to dry-hump me in my chicken coop after I lose my job because you're a suicidal alcoholic. That's okay, because I REALLY like you!"_  

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize my job was to play prophet. I think I mentioned it in passing during his hospital stay..."

Emily smiled and shook her head. "Shane, sit down."

Shane reluctantly returned to his seat on the couch next to me before turning to whisper, "I don't remember you telling me anything."

"That's because you were clearly fucking out of it." I whispered back harshly.

"Shane, Shelby," Emily began, clearing her throat. "Yoba has picked the both of you to be bound together. The outcome of your relationship, good or bad, will determine the future of our town."

"When you say it like that, Em, it sounds like a bad RPG." I replied quietly, picking at a loose string on the sofa.

"Emily, that's horseshit. If you wanted us to date, you should've just-"

"I don't make these rules, Shane!" Emily cried desperately. "If you don't believe me, and Yoba said you wouldn't, you need to visit the Wizard."

"You mean the cosplayer living in the woods?" Shane snorted, amused. "The guy thinks eating spoiled mayonnaise gives him magic powers."

"We have a town wizard? Since when?"

Emily waved her hand dismissively. "He told me this would happen. Alright, go on. Get out of here."

......................

"Don't tell me you're considering paying this guy a visit, Shelby." Shane probed as we left Emily's house and headed towards Marnie's ranch.

"...I mean, what if I am? What's the worse that could happen?"

"He could wear you like a skin jacket."

"Maybe you should come with me then, just to make sure I'm not skinned alive."

"Really, no thanks. I have my fill of it with Emily."

"When I'm made into a nice pair of shoes, you'll be feeling pretty sorry..." I pushed out my lower lip in a faux pout. Shane crossed his arms and leaned, annoyed, against the fence.

"You know, you're pretty irritating. You'd make an awfully pretty pair of shoes, though."

......................

The Wizard's tower was pretty impressive, and as equally difficult to get to. I wished I had brought my axe to clear the way...it also would've made a pretty imposing weapon if this guy turned out to be some feral wolf person waiting for human flesh. Shane wasn't amused by my idea.

"If you get us both killed, I'll kill you again." He complained, shivering in his work shorts. "I'm such an idiot, I should've put on pants..."

I took his hand in mine and led him towards the door, and he recoiled.

"What is it?"

"Maybe we should, uh...knock first. Also, we should leave the door open. We don't really know what we're dealing with here."

"...Are you scared?" I poked, slyly smirking.

"What?! No, I'm not scared!" He fumed, pushing past me and pounding on the door with a tightly clenched fist. When the door opened fully into a dark stone hallway, dilapidated carpet and dusty books strewn across the entry, I'm pretty sure he shit himself.

"I'll...I'll go first." He offered bravely, puffing up his chest before hesitating at the door. "You're, uh...sure you want to do this still?"

"GO." 

"Fine! That's fine...this is fine." He reassured himself in a voice two octaves more masculine than his normally gruff timbre. 

Shane grabbed my hand quickly with his slightly sweaty one before mentioning offhandedly that he needed a drink. I squeezed his hand knowingly and we walked in together, careful not to bump into any of the antique furniture or trip over the neglected rug. Maybe I trusted Em more than Shane did; he looked white as a ghost, his hands clammy. 

"Ah, trespassers?" A hoarse voice chuckled. I felt my heart drop into my stomach with fear, and Shane let out the highest-pitched scream I had ever heard, nearly jumping right out of his skin. He grabbed onto the staircase bannister to level himself and whipped around, searching in the dark for the source of the voice. 

Out from the shadows and into the light trickling in from the open door stood man, who I assumed was a wizard. I mean, he looked enough like a wizard. I guess I hadn't ever really met one, minus the guy who took me to junior prom and insisted on doing sleight-of-hand tricks until I ditched him. I digress. 

He was a short man, with a vibrant purple, horrendously messy hair-and-beard-combo. Honestly, he looked more like a cowboy, with his little boots and little rodeo hat. He must've noticed me sizing him up, because he cleared his throat with such force it broke my inattention. 

"Who the fuck..." Shane breathed, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He really had no excuse for sweating in the winter like this, and the thought of him being nervous sent a strange thrill through my heart.

"I, the great Wizard Rasmodius, demand an answer to this foolishness!" He bellowed impressively. 

"We just-" Shane started, before Rasmodius' voice echoed again.

"NONSENSE!"

"Emily told us-" I cut in, digging my nails into Shane's hand. If it hurt him, he didn't say.

"...Emily?" The wizard mused, like a schoolgirl with a crush. "Oh, Miss Emily! She did say she'd have some friends stopping by..."

I glanced up at Shane, who glanced back down at me. Who WAS this guy? How on earth did Emily know him?

Suddenly, he turned to face us with a serious look on his face. "If what Miss Emily told me is true, and I suspect it is, there is no time to waste. Upstairs, immediately."

When someone dressed as a cowboy-wizard orders you to do something, it's probably wise to go ahead and do it. We exchanged looks, Shane and I, before giving a shocked nod. Once upstairs, it was clear the gloomy foyer was to offput would-be trespassers; the upstairs was brilliant and bright, although just as messy. He guided us to a solid oak table, littered in charred papers and ink stains. On top, a pretty porcelain teapot covered in ash smudges. Did we get sent on official business to a...tea party? I was going to murder Emily.

"I'm not sure how much your charming friend told you," he rambled, setting out cups and saucers and motioning for us to sit. "The situation you two are in is definitely, ehm, strange to say the least."

I think Shane went into shock. His eyes were as wide as the saucers and he looked perpetually ill, like he would vomit at any time. I let go of his hand to accept my cup.

The lack of interactiveness did little to deter Rasmodius as he continued on. "Every person, regardless of their station in life, is bound to another person. East Asia spoke of a "red thread" of sorts, tied around an ankle or finger, that would never break no matter how convoluted a mortal's relationship to their mate became..."

He paused to gingerly dust off his jacket before sitting down across from us.

"What I mean to say is...Yoba bound you two together for more than just human companionship."

"...What does that even mean?" Shane croaked, rubbing his face in disbelief. "Buh, I can't believe any of this..."

"It means, son, that your union, in whatever sense, is imperative to the success of our community and the communities around us."

"...I have no idea why..." Shane muttered into his hands.

"And well you shouldn't, boy! These are celestial dealings. Yoba's will has guided you closer, and the thread has been shortened!"

"So, Yoba wants us to...do whatever...for the general good of the town?" I asked, confusedly as he poured us cups full of algae-thick liquid. I scrunched my nose up at the smell. Shane pushed his cup back on the table.

"Finish your tea and I shall tell you what Yoba's divine will has dictated."

Shane and I exchanged terse glances before turning our focus on our cups. Shane, in true bar-friend fashion, shotgunned his and sputtered at the taste. _Maybe that's the best way to do this._

I had barely reached the bottom of my cup before falling asleep. Is it rude to fall asleep during a tea party? It concerned me that this was my first thought.

I had a crazy dream.


	13. Rule #13: Don't Make Yourself More Lost

I think I dreamt about gumdrops. You know, those horrid little candies you get at Christmas from well-meaning great aunts? The only difference is, these ones were sentient. Maybe that qualifies less as a dream and more of a miserable nightmare. They swirled and squeaked, and jostled about with their little hands and legs, as if they had been morphed with some common house spider. It was more vivid than I remember any other dream ever being, and to this day, it still sits with me and makes my stomach lurch. 

When I came to, I was startled to find myself out in the open wilderness. It must've been late, or very early; I couldn't see an inch in front of me in the pitch darkness. The smell of fern, moss, and damp earth hit my nose immediately. As I staggered to my feet, I pushed my mind into overtime trying to piece together what was true and what wasn't.  _I remember the tower...I remember tea...I remember...Shane?_

Oh fuck, Shane.

A sense of dread seized me as I fell to my knees again, patting around the uneven ground and began calling for him, panicking. "Shane? Shane?! Oh Yoba, don't tell me I was just fucking dumped out here like a fucking body bag..."

I don't really know where I was going. When you're in the middle of the woods without a flashlight and a dead phone, I guess moving feels more productive than just staying still. I wandered through the dense brush, my legs unsteady and weak. I felt like I had been drugged; I wondered if Shane was worse off than me. My heart pounded in my ears when I heard him retching several feet from where I was.

"Oh, thank fuck. Shane?! Shane, are you okay?" I squeezed between two tightly packed trees and saw him on his knees, scraped up and covered in dirt and dust. He looked like he had been through the worst bender ever, with his torn-up hoodie and his deep-set under eye circles. When he looked up at me pathetically, vomit running down his chin, I knew at least he was somewhat lucid. That's a start, I guess.

"Shelby?" He quivered, his voice hoarse from puking. "Where the...what the fuck is going on? What time is it?"

"I'm not even sure where we are."

Shane grimaced and pulled himself, wobbly and unsure. He scratched the back of his head as he surveyed the scene before beginning to wander off in the opposite direction.

"Wait! Where are you going?" I followed hurriedly beside him, grabbing his clammy hand. He turned toward me with a slightly glazed over look before moaning and pressing his forehead to the crook of my neck. He had a fever, I could tell, and his breathing was shallow and shaky. My heart ached as I ran my fingers over his stubble and up through his hair. Even in the icy darkness, I could tell how tired he looked, how the exhaustion and circumstances twisted his handsome features into those of a sick little boy.

"Shelby, can we just...lay down?" He begged softly, gripping my shirt with his sweaty palms. "I'm gonna be fucking sick."

I couldn't force any words out. I held him close to me as I sat down next to a partially rotting tree, nervously stripping his jacket off to cool him down. He leaned over to the other side and puked again, weeping helplessly. Maybe it was for the best, staying there until day decided to break. I remembered my scout experience. Well, I don't remember anything _useful_ , but I have enough common sense not to make us even more lost. I glanced down at Shane, falling asleep on my chest with his face knotted up in sickness. I couldn't really tell you how high his fever was, but he was warm enough to start making me sweat.

I pulled his jacket over us like a blanket. I was mugged by a fucking wizard, and I was going to kill Emily. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SUPER sorry for not updating my little fanfiction sooner. I've been dealing with a hell of a brain spell...but you know what they say! The crazier you are, the better the art, right?
> 
> (Oh god let that be right lmao)
> 
> Anyway, I'm super in love with all of you folks and fairies, thank you for reading my word vomit and thank you for loving it (or at least liking it enough to keep coming back). I'm hoping that I'm well enough to post more regular updates. I promise I won't leave this fanfiction unfinished!


	14. Rule #14: Modern Dating Is A Joke

At exactly 6:32 in the morning, some mere minutes or hours later, the sun rose. 

I never really fell asleep, afraid that if I did, something horrible would happen. Shane's health hung in some delicate balance and I wished that I could remember something, anything about what had happened and why we were so far from town. Obviously we didn't bring ourselves here - I was missing a stud from my right ear, a shoelace, and a button from my cardigan. Shane's jacket zipper was broken and torn, and he was missing a flip flop. As light began to filter in hesitantly through the treetops, I noticed a black eye forming around his socket, his cracked, bloody lips, and his scratched up knuckles and knees. My shoulder ached from holding him all night in an upright position. I glanced up nervously at the sky, worried about thick clouds I saw forming, and began stuffing Shane's arms back into his jacket. 

"...Nyuh?" He groaned, searching around listlessly with his eyes. "...What are you doing, kid?"

"Do you remember last night? Or literally anything else?"

He paused and cleared his throat, taking a deep breath and grasping for his zipper. He gave up with a sigh when he realized it was busted beyond repair. "I remember...did we really see that nut on the edge of town?"

"So you remember the wizard, at least..." 

"I remember that..." he began, groaning as he grabbed his head. I assumed he had a pretty awesome migraine after all the trouble we had gotten into. "Shit, how much did we drink?"

"I don't think we had anything."

"Buh."

"Up we go," I coaxed as I pulled his half-limp body up from the mossy forest floor. "Now comes the adventure. We get to find ourselves back to town. Do you know much about these woods?"

"I think I could probably figure it out...maybe."

"Your confidence is overwhelmingly satisfying."

.......................

When I checked Shane's watch, it was about 10:14 when we caught sight of the lake, a small snow flurry whipping around us.

Shane admitted weakly that, at some point in his teenage years, he had tried to run away to go live in the woods after a summer spent with Marnie, knowing he would soon go back to the dark pit that was his immediate family. He knew them fairly well, but had never been as far out as we had been. I teased him the rest of the way, accusing him of being the wolf-man that I was so desperately fearful of during my own teenage years. His deep, feverish frown let me know this hadn't pleased him.

"Thank Yoba," I groaned dropping to my knees in the cold, damp dirt. "I'm so tired of walking."

Shane dropped down beside me, resting his back against a gnarled tree that had been there longer than we had been alive. "Buh, I think my insides are melting."

"You need a doctor."

Shane closed his eyes and grinned darkly. "You could be my nurse."

I rolled my eyes and pulled myself up again. "You REALLY need a doctor."

....................

Neither of us were in a state to walk through town. With Shane's darkening black eye and worsening fever, and my bloodied nose and bruised jaw, we looked like we came from a underground brawl. Marnie would be worried sick, considering Shane's mental health track record.  _It's easier,_ I mused,  _to just go back to my farm and clean up, get our story straight._

I fumbled desperately for my keys which, of course, were missing. I groaned and lightly banged my head against the door before snapping back in revelation.

"Wait here." I instructed, leaving Shane on the front porch bench. I limped around the side of the house, stomping through rampant blackberry bushes and climbed on top of the generator behind the bedroom window, pushing the unlocked pane up and scrambling to pull myself up to the windowsill. I'm sure Shane heard the thump and shatter as I slipped through the jammed window and onto my bedside table, knocking over the lamp and alarm clock and falling into the bookcase, because I heard him call my name in an concerned and unsure tone. In a daze, I hurried to shove my books back onto the shelf and make it less noticeable that I was a goddamn mess.

When I unlocked the front door and pulled it open, Shane was waiting with a smirk. 

"Any trouble?" He asked, trying and failing to cover his amusement.

"There will be if you tell anyone about that." 

Shane stepped inside and moaned softly, holding his stomach. "Yoba, it hurts so much."

I felt my face pull into a tight frown and led him into the bedroom. "Lie down. Don't move. I'm going to run a bath..."

"Jesus, kid, I don't want to strip-"

"You're gonna, if you know what's good for you." I threatened, slamming the crooked window shut. Shane let out another moan as he rolled over onto the bed, pushing his face into the quilt.

I half-hurried, half-limped to the bathroom and began twisted the bath knobs, my hand under the rushing water to make sure it was just right. I thought aimlessly about what I would tell Dr. Harvey.  _So, Shane and I met a wizard, who drugged us and proceeded to try and dump our near-lifeless bodies in the middle of the woods. How do you know if you're missing any organs? Also, does my insurance cover organ-replacement?_

Once the tub was half-filled, I ambled over to a dehydrated and exhausted Shane. He turned his face toward me and sighed. 

"I guess it's bath time, huh?"

"You can't go in dressed."

"I can get myself undressed."

I gave him a cynical smile. "You can't even get up by yourself. Just...let me help you."

I pulled his limp arm around my shoulder and slowly walked him to the bathroom, sitting him down on the floor next to the tub. He eyed the water nervously and began a pathetic display of trying to pull off his shirt. I laughed softly at him and knelt down.

"I can do it myself." He blushed furiously and crossed his arms over his stomach.

"Let me at least get you started," I offered, pulling off his hoodie and beginning to unbutton his work shirt. Shane stared at the ceiling, face bright red. I pretended not to notice, and pretended I didn't see his hairy chest and tummy. I hoped I wasn't blushing. I probably was. I pulled off his remaining flip flop as he pulled the unbuttoned portions of his shirt tight over his abdomen in a fit of embarrassment. When I nervously unhooked and unzipped his shorts, he inhaled sharply and pulled his knees up to his chest.

"I...think I can take it from here." He mumbled, eyes planted on the floor.

"...Oh! Yeah, yeah you can probably...do the rest..." I stammered, standing up quickly and worming my way out into the hall. I shut the door behind me and let out a deep breath. When I turned my face toward the door, I heard him struggling and grunting as he wrestled with his clothes. I wondered what was so awful about him that he didn't want me to even look.

...............

Shane wouldn't really make eye contact as he slithered from the bathroom, half-naked, to the bedroom, where I had laid out some of my own sweatpants and oversized t-shirts to pick from. I averted my eyes back to the frying pan, where I scrambled eggs awkwardly and checked on toast. Somewhere deep in my gut, I felt a pang of uncertainty. Again, the questions repeated over and over:  _What are we? Does he even like me that much? Is he attracted to me the way I'm attracted to him? Did I offend him? He was so handsome..._

I didn't hear him make his way into the kitchen. When he brushed against my waist I jumped and flipped around, a look of shock plastered on my face. 

"Did I scare you?" He asked lowly, with a shy smile. His face dropped and he pulled his hand back.

"I just...didn't hear you come in, was all." I managed, letting a smile play across my face. I looked down at his outfit pick and grinned easily. "Nice Hello Kitty shirt."

His face flushed. "It's the only one the fit right."

"I'm serious, it looks nice on you." I set down the spatula to reluctantly run the back of my hand over his forehead and frowned. "You still have a fever. Did you take anything? Anything in the medicine cabinet?"

He brushed my hand off and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, you had, uh...left some pills out on the counter. I didn't, y'know...go digging through your stuff or anything."

"You can go through my stuff..." I squeaked, turning back around to breakfast. "No need to be shy...I mean..."

"I don't want to cross any boundaries." He offered gruffly, crossing his arms. "I don't want to make it weird."

We stood there in an uncomfortable silence. Was this modern dating? Going out and messing around, but as soon as things got intimate or threatened to be, shutting off from each other? I already knew the answer; I had been on so many dates cobbled together from some shitty dating app that this felt pretty standard. But with Shane? This is the guy who gifted me a chicken. This is the guy who went on an adventure that probably nearly costed us our life, should we remember any of it. This wasn't some awkward one night stand or a bad date at an imitation Italian restaurant. It felt unfair; I couldn't let it happen. A sense of determination rose in my chest.

"Are you hungry?" 

Shane raised his eyebrows and took a hard look at my face. I hadn't showered yet, or cleaned up the dried blood under my nose. I probably looked like I had crawled to hell and back, but that seemed unimportant. I felt dragged out and violated; why shouldn't I look the part?

"...I figured I'd eat once I got home."

I shook my head. "You can't go back to Marnie's like that. Use my washing machine. Let me put some makeup on your black eye; you'll scare Jaz half to death walking in like that."

He cleared his throat. "I can't let you-"

"I'm insisting."

Shane cracked a dry smile. Even at his weakest and most uncomfortable, I saw the timid light of some deeply buried feeling of hope and trust in his face. "Where's your washing machine?"

..................

While Shane loaded his clothes into my less-than-efficient washing machine, I took an opportunity to shower and clean up. I didn't realize how absolutely filthy and banged up I was until I stood under the hot spray of water and clumps of dirt and blood ran down my body and into the drain. I assumed that Shane felt the same; I saw streaks of blood and pieces of grass stuck to the side of the tub.

I leaned against the tiled wall and sighed. I knew there would be a whole lot of explaining and being explained to in the comings days. I didn't want to deal with it all - I just wanted to chalk it up to a loss. Sometimes you just make bad decisions and get your ass beat by a guy wearing purple cowboy boots. I mean, who  _hasn't_?

It took about 15 minutes to get fully clean, with the water running clear into the drain. I felt reborn, on a crisp and sunny winter mid-morning, standing in a filthy bathtub with clean skin and a light heart. That had to be a metaphor for something. Hearing Shane shuffle around the laundry room and curse at my shitty appliances sent a strange thrill into my heart. It felt nice to have someone else's noises fill my home, to see someone else's messes and their evidence of being here.

I knew I'd feel disappointed when he left, but I wasn't sure he wanted to hear that just yet.

When I stepped out and wrapped a clean towel around me, I caught my reflection in the mirror. I pushed my hair out of my face and felt around with my fingers for any forming bruises. Satisfied, I hurried from the bathroom to the bedroom, hoping Shane wouldn't catch a peek at me, and hoping for warm, soft clothes to block out the chill.

................

"Are you sure this will cover it up?"

I stopped digging through an ancient bag of makeup to give Shane an impatient frown. "I think it will. We won't know until I actually do it."

Shane sighed and flipped through the TV stations as I triumphantly produced a plastic pot of ivory-toned cover-up. 

"C'mere a minute." 

Shane shifted on the couch and crossed his legs. "Do your worst."

Very gently, I used my middle finger to blot some of the color onto his darkening black eye. He winced, pulling away before relaxing and bringing his face closer. 

"It hurts." He grumbled, looking away.

"I know. It's swollen as hell." I mentioned, continuing to work. "...Do you remember anything else from last night?"

Shane pursed his lips. "...I had a nightmare or something about Dippin' Dots."

"Dippin' Dots?"

"Yeah, you know those ice cream balls they sell at the mall? They were like...swirling around or something. Maybe they weren't Dippin' Dots..." He furrowed his brow and thought deeply about it.

"I think we had the same dream."

"About ice cream?"

"About...something like that." I stopped for a moment and looked at him seriously. "What do we do? I mean, should I tell Emily?"

"Probably. She shouldn't be hanging around guys who habitually drug your drinks." He ran a hand through his hair and motioned for the compact, glancing at himself in the tiny mirror. "That doesn't look so bad."

I smiled and smoothed out the edges with my finger. "Listen, Shane...I hope whatever happened..."

Shane shut the compact and looked up at me, his face scrunched up in confusion. "Yeah?"

"...Nevermind." I sighed, turning the volume on the TV up.


	15. Rule #15: You Can't Cut The Thread

How convenient for Emily to be out of town, visiting Sandy. How convenient that she would've left the bus station around the time we got back home.

Haley shrugged and showed me the note left by her older sister.

_Let Shelby know I'll be back in a few days! Tell her that I have NO CLUE about anything that she asks about...not that she'll ask anything! Just tell her I don't know!_

Very convenient. I rolled my eyes and thanked Haley before limping back home on my sprained ankle (Dr. Harvey hardly bought my story about tripping over a chicken, and I was quickly admonished when he found out I had fallen breaking into my own home).

Shane had texted me later that evening to let me know that Marnie had a goddamn cow and possibly the rest of the farm when he showed back up at home. He had told her that she wouldn't believe him if he told her the truth and that she had cried. He felt like the worst nephew who ever existed. He was going to drink off the guilt at the lake, if I wanted to stop by.

I left the text on seen. I stared at the screen until it went black from inactivity and rolled over onto my back in bed. I get him into so much trouble. Maybe we should see less of each other. Maybe we shouldn't get so close if we just make everything around us feel like trash. I had been so concerned about the possibility of Shane's feelings changing but I hadn't realized how much I took him away from his family. I rubbed my face and groaned.  _I'm a shitty whatever-I-am._

I thought about that red thread story. Was it true? Was it true that no matter how hard we fought against it, how hard we fought against each other, we would snap back together like a rubber band? I thought about his perpetual stubble, his wide, warm palms, his crooked grin and his messy hair. Would it be so easy to just walk away from him? I imagined his face, tears streaming down angrily. 

I pushed my face into the pillow and let my hand hang off the bed, grasping in the dark for the jeans I had left on the floor.

Yoba is a bastard.

...................

"Hey, kid." Shane gave me that crooked grin and raised his beer, signaling me over. His face had been freshly washed and shaved, and his black eye looked fierce and swollen. I winced.

"Nice shiner." I teased, grabbing a beer from the dock and sitting down next to him. I huddled deeper in my coat and scarf, noticing he wore neither. Was he cold? "Did you want my scarf? The temperature really dropped..."

Shane scrunched his nose and shook his head. I watched as he anxiously peeled the label off the beer bottle and took a deep breath. "Hey, Shelby...I, uh...I'm sorry."

"Sorry?"

He laughed and ran a hand through his hair, his signature move. "I'm sorry I'm such a nuisance. I really made Marnie upset. I mean...Jas never noticed the black eye, but Marnie spotted it right away. She thinks I went on a bender."

I sat quietly next to him, unsure what to say. It was a sincere apology, but it hung tensely in the air between us. 

He finished his third beer and began opening another one before starting again. "I don't mean to be so fucking weird or awful or whatever it is that I am. I'm sort of a scab on the knee of humanity. I just, ah...fuck..."

I stifled a nervous laugh and took his free hand. He squeezed it instinctively and groaned. "This isn't...this isn't what I wanted to say to you."

"What did you want to say?" I pushed, my stomach twisting.

Shane set down his beer and pinched between his eyes. "Shelby, I...really like you. A lot."

"This doesn't sound promising."

"No! No, that's not what I meant...I just...every time you send me a picture of your chickens it makes my entire day. Sometimes my entire week. Every time I watch you smoke a cigarette, my heart feels like it's going to explode. Each time you roast my ass for being a total fucker, it makes me...ah..." 

"Are you trying to tell me you're into me because I'm a douchebag?"

"I mean, that's why you're into me, right?"

I thought about it, and nodded. 

"You kissed me at the game and I'm lost because of it." He moaned into his hands. I could see the blush creeping down his neck. "That's such a fucking stupid thing to say. I'm bad at this. I hate myself. Fuck."

"No, no...go on." I teased, scooting closer to him so our hips touched. I gave him my most pitiful baby-eyed look. "I want to know."

"Walk with me." He insisted, standing up suddenly. He left his beer, untouched. It had to be serious if that was the case. I followed him as he kept pace three steps in front of me, rambling nervously and rubbing his neck like the skin was suffocating him. Immediately, he stopped to face me. His own expression was full of doubt and self-hatred, but I saw that lilt of hopefulness beneath it.

"Shelby, I'm falling for you and I need to know now if it's a waste of time. I'd hate myself if I...if you...if it didn't work."

"Do you think I would lead you on?" I asked, stepping closer. 

"Do you love me?" He whispered in a strained voice, squeezing my arm gently through my coat. I don't remember when he had gotten so close but I could smell the alcohol on him, the smell of soap, the smell of his skin. I looked up into his face, racked with worry and fear of rejection, his big dark eyes scanning my face for an answer.

"Do you...love  _me_ , Shane?" I squeaked back, my mind racing with thoughts of red threads and golden altars and tea cups. I felt his gaze soften and he pressed his forehead against mine, his breath visible in the night air.

"I think you've ruined me." He said, lacing his fingers into mine.

"Let me keep ruining you, you big oaf." 

Shane smiled and sighed, and in a tender and shy way, lifted my chin and pressed his lips into mine. I felt myself melt into his nervous kiss, his lips warm and scared against mine. In that moment, I swear I felt the tug of a thread and the smell of spring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact time! The whole inspiration for this story, minus the awesome character development that happens in the game, is the song "One Red Thread" by Blind Pilot. I mean, it's not obvious or anything, considering my inspired ass made it the title of the WHOLE STORY.
> 
> I actually have a whole playlist that I think of or listen to when I write this kind of stuff. I love linking up my own favorite, shitty indie bands with characters who probably hate indie music.

**Author's Note:**

> My brain-baby! Hopefully you love it, or at least don't hate it. Next chapter will be out soon, let me know what you think! I've already got the brain bubbles brewing...


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